KOKORO NO KAGE: Story One: Artificial Love
by Shi-koi
Summary: Yaoi - Het - Everyone deserves a second chance. When a time machine turns up with Juunana from another dimension, Goten learns the true meaning of love. Gohan finds out what sacrifice truly is, and Pan learns that love isn't always linear. --ABANDONED--


.

.

.

**KOKORO NO KAGE**

**Story One: Artificial Love**

.

**By Shi-koi**

**.**

Fandom: DBZ

.

Rating: R

.

Spoilers: Basic canon-verse up to the end of DBZ. Some spoilers for 'The History of Trunks' movie.

.

Pairings: Juunana-gou x Goten, Mirai Trunks x Gohan, Trunks x Pan. (Vegeta x Bulma, Goku x Chi-Chi, Krillen x Juuhachi-gou). Mentions of previous Gohan x Videl.

.

Status: In-Progress

.

Warnings: Angst, yaoi, het, romance, time-travel, dimension-hopping, violence, mental/emotional trauma, psychological angst/trauma, AU, H/C, divergence from cannon. Action/Adventure. Slightly dark in places. Happy ending, eventually. Nice Videl, Chi-Chi and Bulma.

.

Disclaimer: I disclaim therefore I write.

.

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance. When a time machine turns up with Juunana from another dimension, Goten learns the true meaning of love. And maybe, just maybe, how to heal another's soul. Gohan finds out what sacrifice truly is, and Pan learns that love isn't always linear.

.

Notes: Some terms here are completely made up. I am not a doctor, nor am I familiar with the insides or components from which androids are made, so no comments please.

.

The song lyrics are not mine. Don't ask me where they're from. I won't tell you. Too many memories.

.

.

_What machine,_

_can heal a heart that's broken?_

_What machine,_

_can understand me?_

.

.

_What can I do,_

_but reach out to you?_

_Send out a signal,_

_of love from me to you._

.

.

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

**Chapter One**

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

The compact egg-shaped machine shuddered violently as it landed, scraps of metal flying off to land, still smoking, in the large newly made crater. A hiss of air escaped from both sides as the top of the domed hatch was lifted.

Pale wintry blue eyes scanned the terrain, before the figure inside unceremoniously tumbled onto the ravaged earth. A series of dry hacking coughs broke the silence.

The person once known as Android 17 pushed himself to his knees, pulling himself upright by sheer strength of will. His clothes were barely recognisable rags, torn and bloody, his figure, always slim, bordered on gaunt.

"Shit..." Juunana winced as the bright sun overhead burned his eyes, a side effect from a stray ki blast years ago. He'd forgotten which dimension it'd been in. Without proper parts, he was unable to repair the electronic damage to his corteral band, the area which in him, filtered out his responses to light.

A black cap, as worn as the rest of his clothes, was yanked out of his jeans pocket and shaken out, before he jammed it over his head. 

Turning back to his Jumper, as his egg-shaped machine had been affectionately dubbed, Juunana quickly re-encapsulated it, tucking the tiny capsule in it's holder and storing it in the special compartment inside his belt. Another perusal of his environment persuading him to walk.

Aside from the crater, the only area of bare earth, his environment resembled a tropical jungle, or a very overgrown forest. Quite similar to the last six worlds he'd landed on. Which meant civilisation lay in the Western area, his internal compass guiding him with no trouble.

_Maybe this time I can find some parts._ Another cough broke his thoughts. _And some medicine._ Juunana thought with a scowl.

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

"Truuuunks!" Came the plaintive whine through the door to the aforementioned person's office, "C'mon, give it back...please?"

Sounds of a laugh, followed by a scuffle echoed loudly in the hall, the secretary outside sighing as she put another person on hold.

"Awww, is Chibi too slow to catch me?" The teasing taunt was followed by a yelp.

"Ha! Not so cocky now eh Trunks?"

"Goten!"

The secretary groaned, refusing to bang her head against the desk.

"That bad huh?" A light feminine voice asked sympathetically.

"Oh, hello Miss Son." The secretary sat upright with a relieved smile.

The woman in front of her laughed. "I wish you wouldn't call me that." She said, grinning, "I am nineteen you know. Pan is fine." 

A loud thump made them both wince.

Pan motioned to the door. "Dare I ask?" She said dryly.

The secretary shook her head. "Mr Briefs and Mr Son have been like that for an hour now."

Pan snickered. "I'll see what I can do."

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

"...and don't forget that I want those essays in by next week." Son Gohan called out as his class started to pack up their things. A chorus of "Yes sir," and "Yes Professor Son," rang out as the class dispersed. He took his time packing his own things.

"Rough day?" A voice asked softly.

Gohan blinked, his head shooting up, his eyes latching in amazement at the figure before him. "Mirai?!"

The lavender-haired elder demi leant against the door frame, watching the younger version of his sensei with warm blue eyes.

A wide smile split the teacher's face, instantly making him look like a kid again. "Oh wow! When did you get back? Are you here for good? Is something bad going to happen? How've you been? Is Bulma-san okay? How've you been managing? Did you kill the androids? Is..."

Mirai held up both hands. "Whoa. Gohan-san, it's nice seeing you too, but I can't keep up when you do that."

Gohan grinned in embarrassment, his hand automatically going to the back of his head in the traditional Son maneuver. "Oops. Sorry."

"So, how long before your next class?"

"Uh," Gohan glanced at his watch, "about two hours."

"Great!" Mirai said brightly, "Let's grab a bite to eat and I'll fill you in."

"Okay." Gohan tucked his briefcase under his desk before turning to lead the other demi-saiya-jin out of his classroom, completely missing the sudden suffusion of red that covered the others' face and neck. By the time he locked the door, Mirai Trunks was back to normal.

"After you." Mirai offered quietly.

.

.

.

--*---

.

.

.

"Chi-chan?! Chiiiii-chan?" Son Goku called out sorrowfully from behind the pile of boxes he was buried beneath. The tall black-haired saiya-jin managed to push a few boxes out of the way with his chin, gazing fearfully at the mass of bargain-hungry women surrounding him.

"CHIII-CHANNN!!"

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

Punch. Twist. Leap. Flip. Slash. Block. Turn. Sweep. Blast. Dodge. Punch. Kick. 

The Saiya-jin no Ouji focused on his moves with complete and utter absorption, the outside world nonexistent as the small prince pushed himself to his boundaries and beyond. His breathing was becoming ragged, sweat glistened on his bare chest, his top long since discarded. 

He was a black-streaked blur in the high-gravity training room, every possible surface used to it's utmost potential as Vegeta no Ouji fought against an unseen opponent. Himself.

Blast. Flip. Twist. Kick. Punch. Block. Dodge. Slash. Turn. Blast. Leap. Feint. Punch.

Over and over again he forced his body to the edge, then adapted, his spirit refusing to allow him to rest. 

It wasn't a matter of want, or need. It was a matter of will.

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow..!"

"This is your fault." Trunks muttered.

Goten paused in his yelping to glare at the other male. "Is not!" He hissed.

"Is too!" Trunks hissed back.

"Not!" Goten's voice rose, earning him a clap around the head from his niece. "Itai!"

Pan crossed her arms over her chest, staring angrily at both men. Even though she was younger than both by over a decade, she was by far the most mature.

...Except when she got mad.

Her eyebrow twitching madly, Pan started to growl, one fist parting the air as she began to list off their faults.

"I can't believe you two! Starting a _food fight?_ In _that_ restaurant?! How am I supposed to explain this? You!" She whirled, pointing at Trunks who was trying to sneak away unsuccessfully, "You should have known better! You're old enough to know that a restaurant is for _eating_ in. Not FIGHTING!" 

She turned on Goten, "And you! You should have known not to join in..."

"...but he started it!" Goten complained.

"I don't care who started it!" Pan screamed, a white aura flashing around her, "You shouldn't have helped him!"

"But Panny..." Trunks started, only to 'eep' as the black-haired girl turned to glare at him.

Pan threw her hands up in the air. "Aargh!" Turning away from them slightly, Pan's eyes narrowed dangerously as she lingered, before the quarter-saiya-jin blasted off into the air, leaving both men behind her in the dust cloud.

"Um, Trunks?" Goten asked, watching the white trail blaze across the sky.

Trunks stared up mournfully at the rapidly disappearing form. "Yeah Chibi?"

"I think we messed up."

Trunks snorted, shaking his head. "You think?"

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

The front door slammed with a loud crash.

Son Videl blinked, cautiously peering out into the hallway. "Pan honey, is that you?"

There was no answer.

"Pan?"

Videl frowned, stepping into the hall. Her daughter's shoes were there, as was her light coat, but of Pan there was no sign. Making up her mind, Videl went to her daughter's room, knocking lightly on the door.

"Panny?"

"Don't call me that." Pan's voice was muffled.

"Pan? Are you okay?" Videl pushed the door open, glancing over the room until she spotted Pan sitting on the windowsill, a pillow hugged to her chest. Her face turned to watch the sky.

"Why are boys such jerks?" Pan grumbled.

"Oh sweetie." Videl sat down beside her daughter, gently brushing away one long strand of midnight dark hair. Her blue eyes soft as she watched Pan.

"Kami! He's such a...a..._baby_!"

"Who?"

Pan looked up, rolling her eyes. "Uncle Goten...Trunks..." She shrugged then.

"Ah."

"You know, I went to visit them at Capsule Corp and he was playing! Playing with Uncle Goten. Like they were just teenagers." Pan's dark brown eyes were flashing as she recalled the scene. She shook her head, burying it back in the pillow.

Videl grinned, covering her mouth as she snickered. Pan's head shot up at the sound, and she stared accusingly at her mother. Videl's blue eyes were twinkling, and her lip was trembling as she tried not to laugh.

"Mother!" Pan gasped, outraged, "It's not funny!"

"Sorry honey." Videl said, her smile never leaving her face. "You know, even your dad was like that...still is."

Pan tilted her head. "Dad? Yeah right. Dad's too straight-laced to ever play about like that."

"...and Saiyaman?"

Pan snorted. "That's different. Dad can't act like himself 'cos then people would know it was him."

"Mmmn." Videl tapped her chin, "Gohan is still like a kid sometimes. You just have to catch him in a good mood." She stood then, beckoning Pan to the door with one hand. "C'mon. There's no point sulking in there. How about we go visit your grandmother?"

"Okay." Pan threw the pillow onto the bed, joining her mother by the door. "...and Mom," she started, crossing her arms, "Men are still jerks."

Videl laughed.

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

"So..." Gohan started, as he led the way to the park, his arms laden with three bags worth of large subway sandwiches, "how've things been then?"

"Well...it's been...quiet." Mirai said, a tiny frown pulling at his brows.

"Oh?"

Mirai nodded slowly. "Yeah. Since the androids and Cell were destroyed nothing's happened. We've been rebuilding New Hope City..."

"New Hope City?"

Mirai glanced sideways at the other demi-saiya-jin. "Yeah. There's no Satan Hercule there, so we...or at least my mom, when the new Governing Council was set up, decided to rename the city." The lavender-haired male shrugged uncomfortably. "The people seem to like it."

Gohan nodded thoughtfully. "Hey, how about here?" he asked, motioning to a secluded spot under a shady tree.

"Sure."

The food was quickly brought out and divided, with a speed only a Saiya-jin could achieve.

"So...uh, about Bulma-san. I guess this means that she's running part of the town?"

"Um..." Mirai Trunks nodded, blushing red, "Kinda."

"Oh?" Gohan cocked his head sideways, grinning at the look on the other's face. "and what about you?" he asked slyly, watching as the red tint rose up to the other's ears.

"Uh...well...I kinda got voted onto the council."

Gohan grinned widely. "Wow Trunks! That's excellent."

Mirai shrugged. "I wasn't really expecting it, to he honest. I mean, I didn't even know my name had been put down."

"I bet Bulma-san is proud."

A soft smile blossomed on Mirai's face. "Yeah. She said that I really deserved it..."

"But?"

Mirai glanced up, tearing his eyes from the grass. His crystal blue eyes were slightly dark, haunted. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. I mean, I wasn't strong enough for such a long time. So many people _died_ out there."

"Don't sell yourself short," Gohan began, a slim undertone of steel entering his voice. The sound reminding Mirai suddenly of his mentor. For an instant they both sounded alike. "You survived. You did what needed to be done. You saved hundreds, thousands of lives. You have nothing, _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

Mirai swallowed uncomfortably, feeling is throat tighten with emotion. Turning his head slightly, the last surviving Prince of his race...in his dimension at least, felt the sting of tears come to his eyes.

"Go-gohan-san?" Mirai whispered, knowing that the other demi would be able to hear him, "Are you proud of me?"

There was a moment of silence, and Mirai clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Even though he knew rationally that the man sitting next to him was not the same man who'd half-raised him, who'd taught him everything he knew, the simple fact that he was _Gohan_ made this so important. 

He'd never gotten to say goodbye to his master, his sensei. He'd never managed to show him 'Look, I did it. _You_ made me strong'. Having Gohan's...this Gohan's approval would be a balm to his battered spirit.

When Mirai felt an arm loop over his shoulder he tensed, his body shuddering as he was pulled into a hard chest, his head nestled against the other's neck.

"I've _always_ been proud of you, Trunks." Gohan whispered fiercely. "And before I was proud, I was in _**awe**."_

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

Juunana slunk around the back of the large farmhouse, aiming unerringly for the full clothes-line by the edge of the yard. He paused as the loud whir of an ancient motor engine rumbled from the buildings somewhere to his right.

Ten minutes later the black-haired jinzoningen fled with his spoils. A red-checkered shirt and black jumper, both almost four sizes too big, and a replacement for his tattered jeans, pale cream cargo trousers which probably belonged to the man's wife. But at least they would fit.

Juunana snorted when he dressed himself. With his waist-long black hair and the baggy clothes, he knew he could have passed for either a boy or a girl. He hardly resembled the android he was when his creator had first woken him, almost forty-six years previously.

Dumping the remains of his last set of clothes in a pile, Juunana sacrificed some of his energy to ki blast them into a small fire, the energy spent low enough not to garner any unwanted attention. Juunana settled himself, crouching down by the tiny blaze to warm his still half-human body.

He was far enough from the farm now to hopefully not be noticed. Juunana waited as dusk fell, curling up when it went dark.

Sleep, when it finally came, was fitful.

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

.

Dende shook his head, it was funny how things turned out. With two new players on the field, things were going to change...and soon.

_I hope Goku-san and the others are prepared for this._ The teen Kami thought, a tiny flicker of fear settling unwanted in his belly. _Because I think that maybe this time, it's going to take everything they've got to survive._

.

.

.

---*---

.

.

Tbc...

.

.

---*---

.

.


End file.
